The Italian panino (the singular form of panini) is a work of sandwich art. Meat, cheese, tomatoes, and herbs are enclosed in an airy ciabatta roll, pressed, and grilled until the crust crisps, the cheese oozes, and the herbs and meat release their lush oils. Rivaled only by the Mexican torta Cubana and its predecessor, the Cuban sandwich, a panino is the perfect cholesterol conveyance for the on-the-go office worker. When I need my fat, starch, and protein fix, I go to Mezzo Mezzo Italian Cafe in Huntington Beach.

Now, if you're looking for an easy way to give yourself a heart attack, there are a plethora of fast food options available that are cheaper and closer to hand. Despite its sinful ingredients, a panino isn't junk food. It's a harmonious melding of fresh, quality ingredients. Biting into the ooey gooey flavor orgy that is one of Mezzo Mezzo Italian Cafe's well made paninis is a sublime experience that no mass produced grease burger could ever hope to reproduce. The Italians are some of the most passionate lovers and eaters in the world, and they make a damn fine sandwich.

My favorite bit of hot Italian lovin' is the Panini Salsicca, with its double action combo of smoked sausage and smoked provolone. This is true food porn at its naughtiest. Oooh... That's a baaaad sandwich that needs to be eaten.

For those of a more PG-13 mindset, the Panini Cotto offers the Disney version of this Italian paean to hot pork goodness.

Personally, I prefer the Panini Stromboli, an uncensored, explicit bacchanal chock full of prosciutto, salami, pepperoni, and smoked sausage. Then again, I've always had a problem with plucky heroines who mature through the course of their adventures only to give up their independence by marrying the earnestly annoying hero, riding off into the sunset, and wasting the rest of their lives spawning his brats. Don't even get me started on the end to the last Pirates of the Caribbean movie. But, I digress.

If you're in complete denial, the Panini Tacchino with lean turkey is the sandwich your Puritanical heart craves. However, you might as well just get one of the vegetarian options instead. Wuss.

As a lighter option, the cafe also offers bruschetta, which misses the point entirely. But, if you decide to go that route, you could go a lot worse than their Bruschetta Pesto. Toasted slices of ciabatta bread are spread with pesto and topped with shavings of Parmesan cheese. Just don't ask them to hold the cheese of I'll be forced to hunt you down and beat you to death with one of Lidia Bastianich's cookbooks.

The Bruschetta Classica, with marinated tomatoes, is a more traditional preparation that's delicious in its freshness and simplicity. However, the real money shot occurs if you can get them to top the Bruschetta Pesto with the tomatoes for the Bruschetta Classica. There's a kick in the palate that almost, almost, makes up for the lack of pork products.

In the mood for something sweet? Try one of Mezzo Mezzo's authentic Italian confections, like this Cannoli filled with candied fruit and sweetened ricotta cheese. They're not fresh made. Gods, what I'd do for some fresh cannoli. But, the cannolis are pretty darn tasty nonetheless.

They've also got a freezer case full of Gelato for some icy refreshment.

My usual preference after some hot and heavy panino action is to settle back with a simple cup of something hot, like a Cappucino or an Espresso. Gotta go something to help that delicious grease digest.

Flush with success from our visit to the Cannery, Ton-Ton, Cat, and I decided to try out luck with another Vancouver hot-spot; the trendier and well-hidden CRU. Finding the restaurant wasn't anything like our adventures trying to get to the Cannery, more the pity. However, we did end up walking past its unobtrusive, unmarked door twice.

Critically acclaimed in both Canada and internationally, CRU has garnered rave reviews from such luminaries as the Zagat Survey, Fodor's Travel Guides, and Bon Appetit Magazine. At the time, their $38 CAD Prix Fixe menu was a hot topic amongst Vancouver foodies, who considered it a very good value. Like our hero, Paddington Bear, Ton-Ton and I are always on the lookout for a bargain. CRU was an easy choice.

As the name might imply, CRU is first and foremost a wine bar. It's tiny, well-decorated area belies the size and variety of the wine selection. The cost per bottle is very reasonable, which is one of the reasons for its popularity. On the other hand, since its focus is liquid rather than solid refreshment, CRU's menu is comprised entirely of high-end small plates. Lower prices, yes, but equally scaled-down portions.

CRU's "Prix Fixe" Three Course Menu allows you to choose from a subset of their regular small plate menu. The options are limited, with more appealing items like Foie Gras Terrine, Syrah-braised Beef Short Ribs, and Twice-Baked Goat Cheese Soufflé only available a-la-carte. However, Ton-Ton and I were fixated on getting a good deal, so Prix Fixe it was. We knew going in that Ton-Ton might be the only one to leave satisfied. It was a risk we were willing to take.

For their First course, Cat and Ton-Ton had the Organic Butter Lettuce Salad with cherry tomatoes and sections of braised light and dark beets. Other than the beets, which Ton-Ton really enjoyed, it was fresh and forgettable. Cat was unimpressed.

I chose the Beef Tenderloin Carpaccio. Sliced paper thin, the tender meat had been seared on the surface, but was still raw within. Tart caperberries, creamy drizzles of truffle aioli, and a generous mound of shaved Parmesan cheese provided punchy accompaniments to meat so fresh that it was like eating the sinful love child of the finest rare filet mignon and juiciest roast beef imaginable. I would fly back to Vancouver just to eat this dish.

Cat and Ton-Ton picked the Roasted Halibut for their Second Course. We'd been told that the second courses had been scaled up for meals, but Ton-Ton was unimpressed by what was presented. A piece of fish the size of a deck of playing cards, half a cup of basil smashed potatoes, a few haricot verts and two grapefruit segments. The halibut was perfectly roasted, but the orange beurre blanc served with it added little. The potatoes and haricot verts weren't distinctive enough to comment on. It followed government portion control guidelines to the letter, but for a dish priced at $28 CAD a-la-carte, Ton-Ton had expected more in both size and flavor.

The Tamarind-Glazed Pork Tenderloin was my selection. Like Ton-Ton, I was a bit shocked by the tiny amount of food on my plate. The pork tenderloin, which was about the size of a roll of quarters, was exquisite. The tamarind glaze was subtle, but its flavor penetrated every inch of the juicy meat. I tried to accommodate for the lack of food by cutting up everything very small and taking tiny bites, like Mickey "Bob" Cratchit in Mickey's Christmas Carol. Even with my strategic dining technique, the jicama mango slaw was gone in a bite. The organic farro, al dente and seasoned well, was gone in two. Maybe my American brain had been addled by too much super-sizing, but I was shocked that this was what $27 CAD got someone ordering a-la-carte.

The Third Course was dessert, which meant Cat and Ton-Ton instinctively went for the Classic Crème Brulee. It was a fine example of its breed, although the praline shortbread biscuit served with it was powdery and tasteless.

My Goat Cheese Cake was a goat cheese lover's dream. The mild acidity of the goat cheese helped alleviate the richness, as did the wine soaked cherries served with it. I wish they'd added a little more orange caramel, though. Actually, I could have done with a bit more of everything.

(Looking for more.)

The entire time we were eating, I was wondering about the portion sizes. Intellectually, I knew that we'd been served a balanced, nutritionally sound, and utterly delicious meal. I'd also known that a wine bar specializing in small plates would have small food. However, after the "Prix Fixe" Three Course Menu, I found myself in the oddly uncomfortable position of being neither full nor satisfied. Now, although I'm definitely deserving of the "chubby" part of my moniker, Cat is willow thin and she felt the same way. Maybe we should have had more wine...

CRU - Great food at a steep price for what you're paying. Most people probably won't get enough with just the prix fixe, so you might want to consider getting a few additional dishes to share. In my opinion, filling up entirely on wine is probably cheaper. I'll definitely come back, but I'll be ordering a-la-carte and planning to spend a few more loonies (Canadian dollars) next time.

Here's a tip to anyone looking for the restaurant. It's kitty corner to the Chapters on the corner of West Broadway and Granville. Head a few stores down West Broadway, away from the Chapters, and look for a small door next to a larger Chinese restaurant.

12/15/2007

Full disclaimer: I am currently friends with Frenzy Sushi owners John and Neary Arteaga. I was not at the time the incidents described below occurred. There was no conflict of interest when I made my first Frenzy post.)

It's been exactly one year since I was banned from Chowhound for refusing to acquiesce to what I considered the arbitrary, mercurial, and inexplicable policies of their moderators. Under contention was Frenzy Sushi, a restaurant that some of the moderators had blacklisted after I'd posted an enthusiastic review. I was accused of being an "insider" and "shilling". While the details of our fracas can be read about here, suffice it to say that neither of these accusations were true. My evaluation of Frenzy Sushi was later borne out by veteran, highly-respected Chowhounds like Russkar, Stormin Norman, and Elmomonster.

In the year since my willing departure from Chowhound, Frenzy Sushi appears to have been removed from the Chowhound blacklist. It's garnered favorable reviews on Chowhound, various food blogs, and in the restaurant review columns of respected news publications. It is, as it was when I first posted about it, an excellent Orange County sushi establishment. Thus, I thought it fitting to post this photo tribute to Frenzy Sushi on the anniversary of my banning from Chowhound. I urge you to go and give Chef John Arteaga's wonderful dishes a try.

With this post, I've decided to close the book on Chowhound. While I continue to feel that their moderation process would benefit greatly from more transparency, consistency, and internal customer relations quality control, it appears that they are trying to improve. On the flip side, their work won't be complete as long as there is a need for sites like Fauxhound, created by frustrated Chowhounds, which offers a highly informative article revealing the Secret Rules of Chowhound. The Chowhound moderators still have a long way to go. Hopefully, with guidance from their parent company, CNET, we'll one day see a Chowhound with clearly listed and uniformly enforced posting rules; a Chowhound where open debate is encouraged and freedom of speech is respected. I wish them the best of luck.

12/10/2007

Although Chubbypanda.com is primarily a food and restaurant review blog, I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to prominent technology blogger Marc Orchant, who passed away yesterday after failing to recover from a massive heart attack. Marc was an energetic, vigorous man seemingly in perfect health. His passing is both disturbing and deeply unfair.

I had the opportunity to work professionally with Marc during the past few years. He was an erudite man, witty, insightful, and deeply passionate about technology. He will be sorely missed. The Orchant family are in my thoughts and prayers.

12/08/2007

I originally had a more pleasant post planned for the weekend, but I was so infuriated after reading this article by my friend Kathy of A Passion for Food, that I had to post about it.

Kathy, who is a very sweet and classy young lady, stopped by La Delice Pastry Shop in New York City for an after-lunch dessert. When she tried to take a picture of biscotti, she was screamed at by the owner. In her words:

"I took out my point-and-shoot to grab a quick photo of the biscotti. Instantly I heard a loud voice from across the room, 'STOP TAKING PHOTOS!! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I CAME IN YOUR HOME, INVADED YOUR PRIVACY AND TOOK PICURES???!!!' Shit, I was literally shaking. My face was bright red. And I felt like crying. The bakery was deathly quiet when I entered and all of a sudden it filled with a booming angry voice directed at me. I didn't know what to do but apologize over and over again and offer to delete the photos. The only thing I wanted to do at that instant was run out and never return. But at the same time I felt guilty. So I bought some biscotti in hopes of winning back favour of the owner...even though I didn't feel like I did anything wrong..."

I'm sorry. It's certainly the owner's right to request that photos not be taken in the shop. At the same time, there's no justification for screaming at a young woman taking a photo of a cookie. If this is how La Delice Pastry Shop treats its customers, I don't know how they stay in business.

It's easy to panic when someone starts shouting at you for taking pictures. Since a number of my readers are fellow food bloggers or amateur photographers, I thought I'd share how I handle these sorts of nasty run-ins.

Usually, when asked why I'm taking photos, I either claim to be a tourist (when not in SoCal) or explain that I write reviews for an "online food publication". If they ask for the publication, I tell them I'm not allowed to release it due to company policy. This is strictly true. When writing restaurant or shop reviews for Chubbypanda.com, I always do so anonymously and always pay full price for anything I review1. If I suspect I'm being given favorable treatment in order to influence me, I don't write the review.

I apologize for any disturbance I may have caused and ask if it's all right for me to continue. At no point do I offer to delete the photos, since they're legally mine. A majority of the time, these explanations work and I'm allowed to proceed. Some shops have been very nice and have even volunteered to remove items from their cases so I can take photos of them.

Occasionally, I'm asked to stop. If the staff is respectful, I am as well, and I still give them my patronage. Good food is good food, regardless of whether or not someone lets you snap a photo. On the other hand, if the staff is rude, I leave. I've never had anyone yell at me before, but I have dealt with serious assholes. I have no qualms about dropping some cash on the table or counter to cover whatever goods or services I've consumed and walking out.

Remember, as a customer, it’s your choice whether or not to give someone your business. In addition, photographers have rights in the US. In many cases, your rights actually trump those of the establishment. Bert P. Krages II, an attorney and amateur photographer who specializes in Intellectual Property law, has published The Photographer's Rights, a helpful online pamphlet. He has also published several books on photography, including the Legal Handbook for Photographers:The Rights and Liabilities of Making Images. If you're a food blogger or photographer, I urge you to read both the pamphlet and the book. It helps to know some of the laws regarding public photography in the States if you're going to continue in your hobby. Here are the basic guidelines I've cobbled together on photography in stores2:

Restaurants and shops, while privately owned, are considered public places. The customers, staff, and owners have no legal expectation of privacy. That's what makes surveillance equipment legal in stores. As such, I, the customer, am allowed to take any photos I like unless...

... the restaurant or shop has a clearly posted sign prohibiting photography. In this case, no pictures should be taken. It there are no signs, I snap away.

If asked to stop photographing by the owner/staff, I do so immediately. However, the photos themselves, regardless of content, are the property of the photographer (me). Any attempt to take my camera, compel me to delete the photos, etc., is illegal. The only things they can legally do are ask me to stop or ask me to leave.

Food presentation is not subject to Intellectual Property law. As such, I don't need the permission of the chef to take, keep, or publish pictures of food. However, if asked to stop taking photos in a restaurant or shop, I must do so.

The photographer retains all Intellectual Property rights over their photos, regardless of consent. This means I can publish, use, or sell my photos as I like without consent from the chef, proprietor, or any people in the photos. I'm also not obligated to compensate the chef, proprietor, or any of the people in my photos.

In the event that I'm asked to leave, I do so immediately. Failure to comply makes me culpable of trespassing. I make sure I pay for any goods or services consumed. The last thing I want is to be accused of theft.

As long as I'm not in the shop, I'm no longer trespassing. I can legally photograph the front of the shop and anything visible inside it. I find it best to place myself on public land (along a street, sidewalk, etc.) where I won't obstruct traffic.

It's always unpleasant when dealing with mean people. However, knowing the law and what you're entitled to do enables you to respond in the proper manner. Don't let people bully you. Know your rights.

Footnotes:

1) The only exceptions are sushi bars or bars that serve alcohol. In these two instances, sushi chefs and bartenders will often "comp" big spenders with a little something extra on the house as a thank you. For example, when eating sushi you will sometimes be gifted with an extra piece of this or that. Similarly, bartenders will often repay a generous tip with an additional beverage, free of charge. This treatment is available to all customers based on the sushi chef/bartender's discretion.

2) I am neither a lawyer or a member of the legal profession. The guidelines listed above reflect my understanding how IP law affects photography in public places for food blogging. It is not a legal opinion and should not be taken as one. I am not advocating others conduct themselves according to these guidelines, only that they do their own research and become aware of their rights as photographers.

Rain has finally come to Southern California, bringing with it the opportunity for me to engage in my favorite cold weather activity; sitting by the window in a comfy chair with a piping hot bowl of soup and a good book. Since I never know how long I have until the sun will be back, I prefer a simple recipe that doesn't take too long. I also like a thick, starchy soup that will help keep me warm as I enjoy the sound of falling rain drops.

Japanese Kabocha Pumpkin Soup is my hearty fare of choice for a grey day. Velvety and rich, it's an entire meal in and of itself. The base recipe is easy, requires few ingredients, and can be finished in less than 30 minutes. I include the skin, which contains most of the vitamins and essential nutrients. The pumpkin's own seeds are roasted to make a salty, crispy garnish. An optional blend of yuzu zest, yuzu juice, and extra virgin olive oil can be drizzled onto the soup to brighten the flavors and add sizzle.

1 Japanese Kabocha pumpkin1 large yellow onion (Substitute with vegetable stock to make vegetarian.) 3 cups of chicken stock1 cup of whole milk (Substitute with unflavored unsweetened soy milk to make vegan.)1 tbsp of butter (Substitute with vegetable oil to make vegan. I like rice bran oil.)1 tbsp of vegetable oil (For roasting the seeds.)Kosher salt and cracked black pepper to tasteJuice and zest of one yuzu mixed with 1 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil (optional)

Prep work:

Wash the pumpkin, scrubbing it with a stiff brush or clean bristle pad. Do not use soap.

Using a heavy cleaver, split the pumpkin in half. Remove the stem and woody base. Reserve the seeds.

Chop the pumpkin into large, 1-inch chunks.

Peel the onion, halve, and thinly slice.

Instructions (Pumpkin Seed Garnish):

Place an oven rack in the middle of your oven. Heat the oven to 350°F.

Remove any large pulp chunks from the pumpkin seeds but save the pulp. Bring 4 cups of water to a boil over high heat. Add 3 tablespoons of Kosher salt, then stir in the seeds. Drop the heat to medium or medium-low and let simmer for around 10 minutes. Remove from heat and drain well.

Place a tablespoon of the reserved pulp in the mixing bowl and mash into a paste using your fingers or a fork. Add the seeds and vegetable oil. Mix well, then spread out onto the baking sheet in a single layer. Let the seeds group together to create abstract shapes. Place the baking sheet in the middle rack of your oven and roast the seeds for 20-30 minutes until golden and crisp. Remove the baking sheet from the oven and let cool to room temperature.

Instructions (Japanese Kabocha Pumpkin Soup):

Melt a tablespoon of butter (or vegetable oil) in your pot over medium heat until it shimmers.

Add the sliced onion and sauté until pale and translucent. Do not let the onions brown.

Turn the heat up to high and add both the chicken (or vegetable) stock and pumpkin chunks. The stock should just cover the surface of the pumpkin. You can add a water if necessary.

Let the stock come up to a boil, then drop the heat to medium or medium-low and simmer under the pumpkin is tender. Should take about 20-30 minutes.

Once the pumpkin is tender, puree the soup in your blender until smooth. For a silkier texture, pass the soup through a sieve. Return the soup to the pot, stir in the milk (or soy milk), and bring back up to a simmer over medium or medium-low heat. Add salt and pepper to taste. Let simmer for five more minutes, stirring frequently.

Serve the soup with a sheet of your roasted pumpkin seeds. A drizzle of the optional yuzu and olive oil mixture really helps brighten it up.

Since I've received a few emails from readers who can't wait until Monday to see Ton-Ton, here's a shot of him working on this post with me.

(New Panda Chinese Food. I like the name.)

What is it about steam table Chinese take out places that keeps calling us back? It's certainly not the food, which at its best only manages to be decent. It's not the ambience, unless you frequently pine for that special cafeteria experience only found in college dorms. No, I think the answer is far more basic.

(Clean tables, cute staff, and blue collar customers.)

There's a part of each of us that craves three basic food elements; meat, starch, and grease. Normally we keep it buried, embarrassed to let it out while we count calories, choose grilled foods over fried, hunt for carb-free options, cut out cholesterol, and generally make ourselves miserable in the pursuit of healthier and more productive lives. It stirs fitfully as we debate the merits of organic vs. local, growls when we can't decide between artificial and natural sweeteners, and rages over every Pinkberry lunch.

Eventually, something has to give. We find ourselves stepping under the forgiving florescent lights of our favorite nutritional flophouse. That place we swear we'll never eat at again every time we drive by it. The type of joint we turn our oh-so-sophisticated noses up at. We'd never admit to liking it. Not with our refined palates and designer diets. If any of our friends told us about it, we'd stare at them in genuine horror and launch into a sincere lecture about the dangers cholesterol, carbs, and saturated fats.

(New Panda's Curry Chicken. With a bowl of rice, this is some seriously good stuff.)

Yet, a curious sense of freedom overtakes us as we contemplate each glistening vat of greasy goodness steaming merrily away behind its sneeze guard. After all, we've been good, haven't we? Don't we deserve a little break? It's not like we're eating at McKing's Jack-in-the-Bell Jr. Thanks to Fast Food Nation, we all know better than that. This is better, isn't it? I mean, you have to use utensils here.

(BBQ Pork Noodle Soup, not half bad given what it costs.)

Hey, whatever it takes to get you through the night. Moral crisis averted, we plunk down our handfuls of change scavenged from the ash trays of our cars and proceed to gorge ourselves on everything we know we shouldn't...

(New Panda's made-to-order Kung Pao Shrimp. I love the spicy kick and lack of filler, but it could use more peanuts.)

...only to find that it's good. It's oh-so-fucking goooood. Each bite delivers forbidden satisfaction that reaches beyond mere taste to soothe the ravening beasts we keep hidden within ourselves. It's the fulfillment you get when you listen to that snake and eat that apple, right before the Big Guy decides to bake himself a pie.

(They serve pho! It's expensive and not very good compared to the stuff in Little Saigon, but it's pho at a steam-table place in Santa Ana.)

With the primal part of our souls sated, we can resume our carrot-crunching lives. We serve penance with detox days and extra time in the gym, even as we vow once more to never return. But, deep down, we know we will.

(Deep fried garlicky sin in the form of New Panda's made-to-order Salt & Pepper Shrimp.)

New Panda Chinese Food - C'mon. You know you want it. Just one little bite...

I've finally reached the point where the frustration, stress, and anger from my last job has melted away, leaving behind the memories and experiences that really matter. One of the best was my friendship with the Family Man, who managed a department closely connected to mine. A former refugee from Vietnam, our eating adventures in nearby Little Saigon opened up a new culinary world as he introduced me to the multicolored tapestry of Vietnamese cuisine.

Our watering hole of choice was Thanh My Restaurant, one of the oldest Vietnamese eateries in the area. With a bemused Elonweis in tow, we'd stop by at least once a month for lunch. It was one place we were sure would never disappoint us.

Picking a restaurant in Little Saigon can sometimes be difficult, particularly when trying to feed several people. The area is teeming with tiny eateries that specialize in one or two specific dishes, making it a problem when one person wants Pho (Rice Noodle Soup) and another one want Com Tam (Broken Rice). Sure, you can usually order rice at a Pho shop, but the results tend to be anything but satisfactory. What sets Thanh My apart is the variety offered by its extensive menu and the knowledge that whatever you order, it's sure to be delicious.

The Family Man and I often joke that the perfect title for a book on Vietnamese cuisine would be "101 Ways to Eat Fish Sauce". Nuoc Mam, a seasoning made by fermenting a type of anchovy-like fish raw, is ubiquitous in Vietnamese cooking. Often misunderstood, the final product is strained and aged to produce a mellow, indescribably savory condiment that bears as much resemblance to the fish used in its production as good Irish cheddar does to milk. Almost every Vietnamese dish contains this subtle flavor enhancer in some form or another. Once mixed with sugar, lime juice, and water, Nuoc Mam becomes Nuoc Cham, a rich, golden dipping sauce served with appetizers and grilled meat entrees. Nuoc Mam is also used in making peanut sauce, another condiment for grilled meat popular with Americans, and in the pickling of vegetables. To fully enjoy the vast world of Vietnamese cuisine, you need to develop an acceptance for both Nuoc Mam and its more extreme cousins, such as Mam Ruoc (Fermented Shrimp Paste).

Once you're ready to take the Nuoc Mam plunge, Khai Vi (Appetizers) are a good way to start. Vietnamese starters are heavily influenced by the royal cuisine developed in the ancient capital of Hue, where the Emperor Tu Duc's fondness for a variety of small dishes gave rise to a formidable array of finger foods. My preffered style of Khai Vi are Cuon (Rolls), usually made with rice paper wrappers containing herbs, greens, and some form of protein.

Since I'm also a Nuoc Cham addict, Thanh My's Bi Cuon (Pork Skin Rolls) are my favorite way to start a meal. Pork skin is steamed, thinly sliced, tossed in toasted rice flour, and wrapped in rice paper with a cooling selection of herbs and greens. Since what's left once the pork fat has been removed is basically gelatin, it's like chewing a mouthful of savory miniature gummy worms encased in the tenderest condom imaginable. The thin shreds of skin are perfect for gripping and holding large amounts of fish sauce, which makes Bi Cuon the perfect way to enjoy Nuoc Cham short of free-basing the stuff.

If the idea of deep-throating a tube of porky goodness doesn't appeal to you... Wuss! Well, ok. There are other ways to get your fish sauce fix. In addition to the more familiar Goi Cuon Tom (Poached Shrimp Rolls) and Goi Cuon Tom Thit (Poached Shrimp and BBQ Pork Rolls), Thanh My offers a number of grilled appetizers and entrees served with rice wrappers and a heaping mound of herbage for you to make your own do-it-yourself rolls. The Chao Tom, marinated ground shrimp meat wrapped around pieces of sugar cane and grilled, were recommended to me by the owner and perfect for rolling up. Any of the Nuong (Grilled) entrees are served with the wrappers and work well as appetizers when shared with friends. Elonweis and I thoroughly enjoyed the Cuon we made with Nai Nuong (Grilled Venison).

For those who find the hands-on aspect of rolling your own Cuon intimidating, watch some archived footage of Beach, the Don of Little Saigon, showing me how to work it. The trick is to dip the dry rice wrapper in the water, then lay it on your plate to soften as it absorbs the water in its surface. This will give you a very resilient subject to work with. If you let the wrapper hydrate in the bowl of water, it will fall apart when you try to roll it around your filling.

Once you've sampled some appetizers, it's time to think about a main course. The Family Man swears by Thanh My's Com Tam (Broken Rice), with good reason. Moist and fluffy, each kernel has the al dente consistency of high quality cous cous. The grilled items are perfectly seasoned, but don't drown the rice in oil the way certain other restaurants do. As is my custom when ordering com tam, I usually order the Com Tam Bi Cha Tau Hu Ky with Bi, Cha (Vietnamese Steamed Quiche), and Tau Hu Ky (Shrimp Sausage wrapped in Bean Curd Skin). For my instructions on how to eat Com Tam, check out this post. As you might imagine, a lot of Nuoc Cham is involved.

Another filling lunch option is Thanh My's Bo Kho Banh Mi (Beef Stew with French Bread). Elonweis is addicted to this stuff, with its tender chunks of beef slowly simmered in a rich stock and served with a crusty loaf of French bread to sop up the gravy. Rice can be substituted for the bread on request, which is usually what she does. Yes, fish sauce is a key part of this dish as well. You can't escape it!

The only strike-out I've ever had at Thanh My was when I ordered the Mi Tom Cua Xa Xiu, an egg noodle soup with shrimp, crab, and BBQ pork in a subtle broth. The only problem was, the broth was too subtle, leaving me reaching for the fish sauce to kick it up.

However, every rain cloud has a silver lining. When I made a return visit to give the Mi Tom Cua Xa Xiu a second chance, I accidentally ordered the Mi Tom Cua Xa Xiu Kho. That one syllable made all the difference in the world. Mi Tom Cua Xa Xiu Kho (Dry Egg Noodle with Shrimp, Crab, and BBQ Pork) dispenses with the insipid broth and replaces it with an unctuous red sauce that coats every noodle with the richness of egg yolks and pork. Add battered fried shrimp instead of boiled, and you've got the God-King of Vietnamese egg noodle dishes, or so Elonweis and I thought. Then we stumbled across Hu Tieu Mi Kho (Dry Mung Bean and Egg Noodles), which had the same sauce and toppings. The addition of the Hu Tieu (Mung Bean Noodles) added a soft textural component that, when paired with the firm chewiness of the egg noodles, brought the entire dish together. With a few chrysanthemum leaves and bean sprouts added for their astringent kick, and a strong bowl of savory broth on the side, we were in noodle heaven.

But, our explorations didn't stop there. Although it's a popular lunchtime destination, Thanh My is known for its traditional Vietnamese dishes meant to be eaten family-style. My friend Bee from Rasa Malaysia is another fan of the restaurant. During lunch at another eatery, she recommended Thanh My's Ngheu Xao Dau Hao (Clams with Oyster Sauce), which I dutifully ordered when the opportunity next presented itself. I'm happy I did. The clams were fresh and succulent, practically bursting with juice. Chili peppers added a nice heat, and the liberal amount of chopped cilantro brightened up the dark flavor of the oyster sauce. The clams and their sauce were great on top of big bowls of steamed rice. Elonweis and I licked that plate clean. We're planning on heading back for dinner soon with a bigger group of people so we can really hit up their family-style offerings.

Dessert is complimentary at Thanh My. The waiter brings around bowls of warm mung bean, tapioca, and seaweed Che (Sweetened Dessert Soup). It's not bad, but sometimes I crave a little something more.

In these instances, I turn to the beverage menu. A cool glass of Rau Ma (Pennyworth Leaf Juice) often served to sooth a stomach abused from overeating. For something heftier, I get the Sinh To Dau Xanh Rau Ma, a smoothie made with mung bean and pennyworth leaf juice. When I'm in a wicked mood, I enjoy the complex flavors of durian in Sinh To Sau Rieng (Durian Shake). After all, a sweet ending without a bit of bite would be unrealistic.

Thanh My Restaurant - Their dishes may not be the best, but the food is good and they offer a wide selection of well-prepared dishes sure to satisfy any party. Bring your friends.